


Easy

by Amywins



Category: The Good Doctor (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-24 18:35:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22322527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amywins/pseuds/Amywins
Summary: It's not easy, and it's not simple, but Morgan and Claire are not easy or simple people.
Relationships: Claire Browne/Morgan Reznick
Comments: 17
Kudos: 131





	Easy

**Author's Note:**

> Full disclosure: I started writing this after the promo for 3x06 came out, so you may notice some parts don't exactly align with canon. Anyway, here Claire stands up for Shaun after his surgery freak-out, which gets her in trouble with Lim. Also, Morgan doesn't have arthritis because I don't know where the writers are going with that. I like to think that "SFAD" did happen somehow, just because I enjoy the episode.

“Hey. What’s going on with you and Shaun?”  
Morgan’s never been one for small talk, and she gets straight to the point. Unfortunately, today Claire’s not in the mood.  
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she answers, curtly.  
“Too bad, cuz that’s what everybody’s talking about.”  
Claire sighs and rolls her eyes. She leaves the chart she was reading on the desk — knows she won’t get any work done.  
“He freaked out at a nurse in the middle of an operation,” she explains, as she stands up and heads down the corridor. She wants to check on her patient once more before the end of her shift. Morgan rushes to keep up with her. “Lim chewed him out.”  
“And you?”  
“I guess I defended him.”  
The other doctor raises her eyebrows.  
“You guess? Claire, Shaun’s problem is communication.”  
“And?”  
“And? That’s _his_ problem.” She lowers her voice: “Your problem, right now, is that you’re refusing to deal with your mother’s death. And so you’re using Shaun as an excuse to blow up at people, risking your career while you pretend like you’re fighting for some noble cause.”  
Claire stops.  
“I know it’s difficult for you to understand this, Morgan, but sometimes people put themselves in danger to help out a friend. You’d know that if you had any.”  
“Ouch,” Morgan says, but doesn’t sound hurt, only half-amused, half-impressed. Then, she turns serious. “I don’t care if you believe me or not, but I’m actually trying to be a friend to you right now.” At that, Claire can only scoff. Morgan shrugs, her expression cold as ice. “Suit yourself. Less competition for me anyway.”

***

“Hey.”  
Claire rolls her eyes. She feels like she’s had this exact conversation before, and knows how it’s going to end.  
“What is it now?” she asks dryly.  
Morgan can't help but smirk.  
“Remember when you were the nice one?”  
“I remember you making fun of me for it.”  
Now it's Morgan's turn to roll her eyes. She's clearly uncomfortable, but still unwilling to drop the subject. “Can we talk for a minute?”  
Claire shuts her eyes. Then, she sighs and closes her laptop. She turns her chair around.  
“What’s up?”  
“You should talk to Lim”  
“Okay,” she nods. “Something in particular...?”  
Morgan leans closer, frustrated.  
“About your mother. I know you want to keep it a secret but— Claire, your job might be in danger,” she pleads. “This is serious.”  
“Having an addict as a mother teaches you a lot of things. Probably the biggest one — responsibility. I did what I did. I’ll deal with the consequences to my actions; I won’t use my mom’s death as an excuse.”  
There’s something close to pity in Morgan’s eyes, and that only pisses her off even more.  
“Claire...” she says, dead serious. “She might actually fire you.”  
Claire feels tired. She just wants to go home and sleep for an entire week. Instead she just shrugs, defeated.  
“Then you were right. That’s _my_ problem.”

***

Although she would never admit it, Lim’s office is a little intimidating.  
She takes a moment before knocking on the wooden door and walking in, but the chief of surgery doesn’t look up from her desk immediately; she seems busy reading some files.  
Unfortunately, patience has never been Morgan’s forte.  
“Dr. Lim.”  
Audrey Lim still takes the time to sign a document, and then—  
“Dr. Reznick. To what do I owe the pleasure? I hope I made myself clear about your sucking up.”  
“Yes, no. This is...” she clears her throat. “It’s about Claire.”  
Lim leans back against her chair. She seems intrigued, and drops her pen on the desk.  
“I’m all ears.”  
Morgan takes the opportunity to sit down. She thinks for a second on how to approach this.  
“She won’t tell you this, and I’ve been keeping her secret but—” she shakes her head, “she’s acting irrationally. Her mother died, two weeks ago... drunk driving. And it’s obviously affecting her emotionally, but she won’t talk to me or anyone else about it. She doesn’t deserve to lose her job over this.”  
Lim seems surprised, and a little bit curious. She doesn’t ask any questions, though. She looks at Morgan for a minute, then raises her eyebrows.  
“Well, I can see you feel strongly about this. I’ll talk to Dr. Browne.”  
Morgan nods.  
“Thank you.”  
She stands up and gets ready to leave. However, when she opens the door, she hears Lim’s voice once more:  
“Morgan,” she calls out. The resident turns around. “Chances are, she won’t see what you just did here as a favor.”  
“I’m fine with that.”  
Lim picks up her pen. She doesn’t look up to Morgan, seems to be quietly reading the documents in front of her. Then, she says, almost casually:  
“Not a lot of people would do that. To help a friend, even if it means losing that friendship.”  
Morgan doesn’t answer. She nods, exits the office, and then closes the door behind her.

***

Claire finds her three hours later.  
She’s berating some nurse over a missing test when Claire appears seemingly out of nowhere and angrily calls out her name. She looks... well, _fuming_.  
The nurse takes the opportunity to quietly slip away.  
“Morgan! I asked you one specific thing.”  
“What was that?” she asks innocently, using that fake sweet voice that knows will annoy her.  
“You know damn well I didn’t want you to tell Lim about my personal life!”  
Morgan sighs and turns around; starts walking away.  
“Then you shouldn’t have let it affect your professional one,” she says over her shoulder, dismissively.  
“And all of this...” Behind her, Claire raises her voice. “For what, to get the lead on a surgery?”  
She stops and turns back around.  
“What?”  
“Don’t try to act surprised. Lim told me you’ll be taking over. I guess congratulations are in order.”  
Morgan can’t help it; she is who she is, and a small victorious smile spreads across her face at the news. However, she still wants to know:  
“And you?”  
Claire shakes her head and says, “I’m going home.”  
That doesn’t make sense.  
“Why?”  
“I’m on forced leave for ten days. I guess you got what you wanted.”

***

She kills her patient.  
She’s there when Melendez notifies the family. “Unforeseeable complications,” he says, and Morgan has to watch, stony-faced, how the husband’s whole life crumbles beneath his feet.  
She makes it to the lockers before she allows herself to cry. 

***

She had always imagined Morgan living in one of those big houses with a flag in the yard but, it turns out, she’s renting an apartment. She supposes it makes sense.  
Claire had returned to St. Bonaventure after ten days of mandated therapy, only to find Morgan missing. At first, she was relieved — last thing she wanted to see when she came back was her smug face looking all self-satisfied. However, after quickly learning about the circumstances of her colleague’s absence, relief gave way to a much less comforting feeling: guilt.  
She talked to her therapist about it. It was the first time the topic of Morgan had come up in one of her sessions and, she found out, she had quite a lot to say.  
“Do you feel responsible for that surgery’s outcome?” her therapist had asked her. “After all, you were supposed to be the lead.”  
“No,” she had answered honestly.  
And yet, now she finds herself outside Morgan’s apartment door, deliberating on whether or not to ring the bell. Finally, after a minute of doubt, she steels herself, fixes her hair and presses the button. The door opens rather quickly.  
“Can I come in?” Claire asks.  
Morgan seems surprised to find her there, but she steps back to let her in.  
“Now you’re talking to me?”  
“I came by to check on you. I thought you might be in a crisis.” Now that she looks at her, Morgan looks remarkably well put together. She’s wearing a casual sweater and slacks, her make-up is perfectly applied, and not one hair seems out of place. “Is this you in a crisis?” she asks skeptically.  
“Why would I be in a crisis?”  
“Now who’s in denial?”  
She walks past her into the living room. It’s a big space, white and grey, and sort of impersonally modern, but nothing looks strange in it except for—  
“Look, I appreciate the gesture, but now’s not—”  
“Wha-what is that?” she stammers.  
Perfectly piled up against the wall there are three large suitcases, packed and ready to go. Next to them, half a dozen cardboard boxes stand in a tower. She looks around. What she took for some sort of minimalist décor is now an obviously half-empty apartment, getting ready for the end of the lease.  
“You’re leaving.”  
Morgan taps her thigh, nervously.  
“I’m going back home. I just don’t see the point in sticking around.”  
“’The point?’” she echoes. “Who are you and what have you done to Morgan Reznick?”  
“I thought you of all people would be happy about me leaving.”  
“Of course not!” Claire wants to shake Morgan. Instead, she clenches her fists. “Look, I was angry — still am a little bit — at you, at my mother... at myself. That doesn’t mean I want you to run away!”  
Morgan seems taken aback.  
“Run away? I’m not running.”  
“Really? What do you call this then?”  
“I’m falling back, strategically.” At Claire’s obvious look of disbelief, she sighs. “Look, I know who I am. I know what people think of me, and I don’t care. Because even if I’m selfish and callous and too honest... I’m a good doctor.” She has never seen Morgan like this. Her voice is steady, but her hands are trembling and her eyes are bright with tears. “And if I’m not...” Morgan adds, and looks away, “then what’s the point?”  
“Morgan,” she says, softly, “what happened was an accident. Everybody thinks so. Melendez told me himself, there was no way you could’ve known what would happen. No one could have saved him.”  
“But I froze. In that moment— I didn’t know what to do. I panicked.”  
If this were anyone else, Claire would go for a hug, but Morgan looks like she’s half-way ready to either run away or kick her out of the house, so she opts for a different approach.  
“You’re one of the most infuriating people I’ve ever met,” she admits. “You’re judgmental, and astonishingly cynical, and sometimes you can be a real bitch, but,” she adds, before Morgan can interrupt her, probably to tell her to fuck off, “you’re also one of the most brilliant doctors I know. You’re inventive, and precise— and you care about your patients. I know you try to act like you don’t, but you do.” She can see Morgan is genuinely touched and knows she could leave it there. But. She’s being honest, and she’s already gotten this far. “And you cared about me. You have been a good friend. And I would be a lousy one if I just let you leave.”

***

There’s a fundraiser, and the hospital hall and auditorium are filled with lights and waiters and fancy people wearing fancy clothes. Usually, Claire would’ve taken the opportunity to enjoy the hors d’oeuvres, network a little bit and maybe even dance and have a drink. Now, however, she’s watching other people do that from the railing on the first floor. After these last few months, she’s not in the mood for a party. She’s actually wondering just how early is too early to leave the event, when Morgan approaches her. She’s found her hiding spot, and stands next to her leaning her back against the railing.  
“How come you aren’t mingling yourself all over the place?” Claire asks as a greeting, sounding only half-annoyed.  
“I already hit my more important targets. I’m taking five before I go again.”  
“Hm.”  
Morgan looks at her with something close to concern in her eyes. She’s wearing dark eyeshadow and her hair is up. In a weird way, Claire thinks she doesn’t look like a doctor tonight.  
“What about you? Not having fun?”  
She shakes her head.  
“Having a hard time imagining anything less fun than this, actually.”  
“C’mon, it can’t be that bad.” There’s something lighter in Morgan’s usually sharp voice. She seems chipper. “Look at Shaun, even he’s having fun.”  
It’s true. He looks handsome in his shiny black tux, his hair parted and gelled. He holds two glasses of champagne in his hands.  
“Yeah, well, he has Carly,” Claire says, and her voice sounds bitter to her own ears.  
Morgan doesn’t answer immediately. They both look at the couple. They’re not dancing, but they’re talking animatedly and, at one point, Carly smiles and stands on her tiptoes to give Shaun a quick peck. He looks completely smitten.  
“You wanna do some shots?” Morgan asks, dryly.  
“Sure.”  
“Let’s go.”  
They make their way to the bar and ask for a couple of tequila shots. They down them in silence and, immediately, Morgan asks the barman for two more.  
“C’mon,” she says. “We’re celebrating tonight.”  
“Celebrating what?”  
“Let’s just pretend we are,” she snaps.  
Claire feels the urge to argue but then she just shakes her head and drinks her shot. Morgan smiles and does the same, her pinky up in the air. Sometimes, the woman can be downright ridiculous.  
At some point, Alex and his ex wife join them. They’ve clearly been dancing, and his hair is a bit sweaty around the temples. Soon enough, he and Morgan start bickering, and Claire and Mia —that was her name!— exchange glances like suffering mothers at the kindergarten. They eventually leave again when a new song starts, and Mia jumps up and down excitedly and begs Alex for another dance. Claire strongly suspects that she was just looking for an excuse to get away.  
“She seems friendly.”  
“Whatever.” She was just trying to make polite conversation, but Morgan shrugs dismissively and sips on her cocktail.  
“Would it kill you to say something nice?”  
“I have you for that,” she smirks, and even though her voice is sweet, she manages to make it sound like an insult.  
Claire rolls her eyes, but somehow —and she’s not sure of when or why it happened— this _thing_ that they’ve been doing, this ritual of throwing darts at one another at every opportunity, has stopped feeling mean and now... now it feels almost playful.  
“Anyway, I’m getting out of here.”  
She calls a Lyft and gets ready to finally leave. Morgan insists on accompanying her outside, just in case. It’s chilly, and they wait for her ride in an awkward silence. Usually, the cold air would help her sober up, but now it seems to have the opposite effect; her jaw feels loose, and her cheeks, tingly. She glances at her colleague next to her. She seems remarkably stoic.  
Claire opens her mouth. Her tongue is heavy, but she wants to break the silence. She says:  
“Morgan—”  
And she shuts her mouth. She doesn’t feel completely lucid right now, and isn’t even sure what she wanted to say in the first place.  
“Huh? Are you cold?” Morgan asks, oblivious. She can see the tip of her nose turning red. Claire shakes her head.  
Her ride arrives, and as the car pulls up she chances another glance at Morgan, who’s now looking at her curiously. She manages to open the car door but, before she gets in, she turns around.  
“I’m, uh...” she starts, but fumbles for words. “I’m glad you didn’t leave,” she manages in the end.  
Claire likes to think that, at this point, she can read Morgan pretty well. She doesn’t say anything, but her eyelashes flutter in that particular way, and she presses her lips together for just a moment, and Claire gets the message.  
“So...” she knows she should get in the car, but she can’t bring herself to move. Instead, Claire grips the car door even harder. “I’m glad you stayed.”  
She knows what’s going to happen just before it does, so when they kiss it doesn’t come as a surprise. She relaxes into it and feels her back push into the car roof. She needs to let go of the door and, instead, hangs on to Morgan’s coat for balance. Claire wants her closer, so she uses her other hand to grab the back of her neck, and that’s when Morgan makes a noise. She actually _sighs_ into her mouth.  
Claire pulls away, because her knees are shaking and she fears her legs might fail her. They are both sort of gasping for air, and she notices how Morgan’s lipstick has become a fuzzy pink when at the beginning of the night it was sharp red.  
They kiss again, this time softer. It doesn’t feel timid, or unsure, just lighter.  
Claire thinks she might jump out of her skin when she hears the car horn blast hard — twice. Morgan swears. She pulls away and twists half her body inside the car to yell god-knows-what at the driver. Claire tunes out the argument and closes her eyes; she thinks she may faint at any moment.  
Finally, Morgan emerges from the car, looking a bit dishevelled and obviously pissed.  
“Asshole,” she says under her breath.  
“Okay, um...” Claire begins, but doesn’t quite know how to follow. The moment is obviously gone, and she instinctively crosses her arms against her chest.  
She wants to get away as fast as she can, so she just nods Morgan goodbye and gets in the car. She puts on the seat belt and gives the address to the driver, who grunts in response and starts the engine. She doesn’t look back through the window as she leaves. 

***

Next day at St. Bonaventure, she’s happy she has to work with Shaun, and does her best to avoid a certain blonde. However, she can’t help bumping into her occasionally; she first sees her talking to Alex and Melendez in the meeting room, and then, at lunch, the only free spot at their usual table is right next to her. At one point, Claire almost has a heart attack when Morgan cheekily steals one of her fries.  
However, if Morgan is feeling awkward at all, she certainly doesn’t show it. She seems in her usual mood, bickering with Alex and occasionally offering snarky remarks to Shaun, who is involved in a new relationship crisis and, at the same time, trying to work out their patient’s diagnosis. Normally, Claire would do her best to try to help her friend navigate his emotions — or lack thereof, but today she can barely keep track of her own.  
The thing is, Morgan doesn’t feel affected.  
She isn’t ignoring Claire, that would be a reaction to what happened that Claire could actually understand. Instead, Morgan’s just acting as if nothing _had_ happened, and it’s driving her crazy.  
At the end of her shift, she manages to meet Morgan in the locker room. She makes sure that no one else is in there, and marches up to her.  
“Can we talk?”  
“Sure. What’s up?”  
She sounds nonchalant, and that annoys her.  
“Are you serious? We _kissed_. _Twice_. You don’t have anything to say about that?”  
“Well, they were good kisses. But I was drunk, I’m sure I can do better.” Claire can only scoff in disbelief. “What? Like you were perfect, Miss Too-much-tongue.”  
“I’m not talking about having a do-over! Doesn’t the fact that we actually kissed freak you out?”  
Morgan sighs and slams the door of her locker.  
“Listen. If you want to forget it happened, it’s fine by me. Although...” Morgan furrows her brow, she seems on the brink of a realization— “Do you think it could be cancer?”

***

It turns out, it might very well be cancer.  
They’re doing an MRI on their patient to check for any possible tumors, and Claire can’t stop clicking the pen she’s holding in her hand.  
“Shaun.”  
“Yes?” he says, his eyes never leaving the monitor.  
She rolls her chair closer.  
“Can you keep a secret?”  
“I’m very good at keeping secrets so yes, I can,” he answers proudly.  
“Okay...” she sighs. “Okay. Morgan and I... kissed.”  
Shaun actually turns to look at her for an instant and then he goes back to the computer screen.  
“Oh. I didn’t know you and Morgan were lesbians.”  
“We’re not lesbians!” Claire protests. “I mean, _I’m_ not. I don’t know about Morgan. I assume she’s not. She constantly talks about all her boyfriends but who the hell knows with her.”  
“I see. Usually people with similar personalities have more successful relationships, but Dr. Glassman says opposites can compliment each other’s character flaws.”  
Claire immediately regrets saying anything at all.  
“Shaun,” she explains, “we don’t have a relationship. It was just a kiss— two kisses.”  
“Then I don’t understand the issue.”  
“You know, just... forget about it.”  
He seems relieved.

***

“Morgan, are you a lesbian?”  
The question drops like a ton of bricks. They are in the meeting room, brainstorming a possible solution for removing Claire and Shaun’s patient’s tumor without killing him, when Shaun decides to ask the fatal question. Alex actually does a spit take with his coffee.  
“Shaun!”  
“Well, that’s a non-sequitur,” Morgan says with a dangerous smile and a fake breezy tone in her voice. “I am in fact not a lesbian, Shaun. You worried about something?”  
“Nope. Not worried at all,” Shaun answers matter-of-factly. “I will just forget about it.”  
“Great. Now that that’s out of the way... Unless any of you want to come out. Any secret homosexuals in this team?” Morgan asks, waving her hands dramatically. “Park?” He just coughs, and shakes his head. Morgan then turns to her and— “ _Browne_?”  
Claire sighs and massages her temples.  
“Let’s... just... focus on the patient, please.”

***

She meets her later.  
Claire had been waiting for her in her car. When she sees the other doctor, now in her civilian clothes, step into the parking lot, she quickly locks her car and walks up to her.  
“Anything on your mind?” Morgan asks sarcastically.  
“Sorry about that,” Claire blurts. “I told Shaun and... I didn’t ask him to do that,” she feels the need to clarify.  
Morgan stares at her. She doesn’t look angry, exactly, but Claire doesn’t think she looks particularly thrilled either.  
“Look, Claire,” she sighs. “I like men, I like women. If that’s what’s got you all freaked out—”  
“No! It’s just. You’ve only mentioned boyfriends before so...”  
“If I talk about boyfriends, people nod and smile and move on. Mention a girlfriend, though, and it’s all questions. ‘When did you know? Are you gay? Do you have a good relationship with your parents?’” Morgan brushes her hair back, she seems annoyed to even be talking about this. “Frankly, I don’t have the patience for that.”  
“So you just... hide it?”  
“No. I just want to keep my personal life outside of this damn hospital.”  
Claire snorts.  
“Yeah, well, good luck with that.”  
They fall silent.  
She doesn’t know what’s left to say, but Morgan looks like she’s quietly trying to work something out, because she’s staring at her feet in an uncharacteristically shy gesture. However, when she finally speaks, she doesn’t hesitate. She sounds almost petulant.  
“I like you,” she says, lifting up her chin. Claire actually feels the air leave her lungs at these words, but Morgan isn’t done yet. “I don’t even know how that happened but you’re...” Her voice wavers as her confidence seems to abandon her, so Morgan just shakes her head. “Look, if you want to forget this whole thing just—”  
There are bits and pieces missing from the night of the fundraiser. She’s not sure who started the kiss, for instance. She just remembers Morgan’s face, very close, so close she could count her eyelashes if she wanted to, and then the feel of her body pressed against her, her warmth, soft lips, and nails lightly scratching her arm.  
There’s no mistake now, though. It’s Claire that closes the gap between them; it’s Claire that holds the side of her head and brushes the tips of her fingers against her ear and the base of her scalp; and it’s Claire that shuts her up with a kiss.

***

They have sex rather quickly, which surprises her.  
She has never been with a woman. Yes — she has kissed girls before, and she’s pretty sure she knows what goes where, but she’s still nervous about it. However, the fact that after her mother’s death she used sex as a coping mechanism, only adds to her anxiety. That dark period in her life has left an indelible mark on her, and the prospects of a sexual encounter with Morgan, which seem enticing in the moment, only fill her with self-doubt when she’s alone.  
She talks about it with her therapist.  
She says, “You’re still healing from trauma. Don’t rush into anything until it feels right for you.” And then asks, “Have you talked about this with your partner?”  
She hasn’t told her therapist about Morgan yet, and she’s not ready to unpack what that may mean. It’s not really a relationship, she tells herself, so there’s really nothing to talk about.  
Anyway, she doesn’t say anything to Morgan about her issues either.  
She seems to sense it, though, because one day, when things are getting hot and heavy on Morgan’s couch, she suddenly stops and looks at her very seriously.  
“With those guys, after— you know... Did you use protection?”  
Claire has to give her brain a moment to start working properly before she can answer.  
“Is this really the moment for that talk?”  
“I’d say honest conversation is the basis for any kind of healthy sexual relationship.”  
Morgan talks in the same professional voice she uses for her patients, only she’s presently half on top of her and Claire can clearly see her bra through her partially unbuttoned shirt.  
“Um, most of the time,” she says, embarrassed. “I took some tests, though, and I’m completely clean. So, you can check that off your list.”  
Morgan doesn’t say anything, but she softly runs her fingers across her stomach.  
“Did they touch you — like this?”  
“Not like that, no,” she answers. And when the woman on top of her tilts her head, she adds, “They didn’t touch me, so much as grab me. It was a different type of situation.”  
She can feel Morgan thinking.  
“Did you like it?”  
What can she say? I liked anything that made me not think for a minute about my shitty life? It wasn’t about liking, only about needing? Sometimes I’m afraid I will fall back on that same fucked-up pattern and end up like my mother? She opts for the truth.  
“I like this better.”  
That night, Morgan makes her come three times.

***

It’s fun, sneaking around.  
But Claire already knew this. After all, if she’s being honest, that was the basis of her relationship with Jared. He was sweet and considerate; he didn’t mind acquiescing to her demands, to her need of secrecy.  
Morgan, however, is a whole different beast.  
Most of the time, she doesn’t know what she’s going to get. For one, she’s the most competitive person Claire has ever met, and if she thought for one moment that Morgan was going to take it easy on her just because sometimes they make out in the break room, she was completely wrong.  
“Dr. Browne is right,” Morgan says one day to Dr. Andrews, when they’re discussing the best course of action for their patient. “Steroids is the obvious solution. Of course, if it _is_ an infection we will have effectively killed her, but at least the inflammation will have gone down.”  
She’s so furious she doesn’t pick up her calls for two days. Finally, Morgan confronts her at lunch.  
“Oh, come on! You can’t be mad at me for trying to be the best at my job,” she says, slamming the food tray against the table.  
“You can be the best without making the rest of us look bad!”  
“That means you’re my main competition. You should actually take it as a compliment,” Morgan retorts with a smirk.  
Claire is about to leave the table in anger when Morgan holds her by the sleeve. That stops her in her tracks.  
“Fine,” Morgan sighs. “What do you want me to do, then?”  
She sits back down.  
“How about instead of tearing each other down we learn to work together?”  
Morgan seems to consider it for a moment — then, conspiratorially, she leans closer.  
“I thought that’s exactly what we were doing” she whispers, and Claire swears her cheeks have suddenly caught fire.  
“Just!” she squeaks. “No petty digs in front of our bosses! That’s all I’m saying!”  
Morgan leans back, disgruntled.  
“Fine,” she agrees. “But this deal only extends to you. I will drop dead before I have to play nice with Park.”  
Then, other times, she’s surprisingly sweet.  
It’s not long before she has a rough day. One of her patients, a little girl of thirteen, is going to die and there’s nothing she can do but watch. The parents aren’t in the picture, so she spends the night with her, talking, and, when she gets too tired to talk, just being there, trying to make the girl feel less alone.  
Morgan finds her sitting on one of the chairs while the girl sleeps, and looks at her for a moment. She gets this soft look on her face, that Claire has usually seen when she cares about a patient, and hands her a cup of tea without saying a word.  
Later, after she has done all that’s humanly possible and finally all that’s left to do is let the nurses take care of the body, she finds Morgan asleep on the sofa in the meeting room, surrounded by medical journals.  
Claire feels like crying. 

***

Alex is the first one to know about them. He was a cop, after all, and has an uncanny ability to read people. He drops a few hints, at first; throws a few obvious jabs. Claire suspects he’s been giving shit mostly to Morgan, because she seems extra annoyed at him lately.  
However, one evening when they’re both alone, he says out of nowhere:  
“I hope you know what you’re doing.” And, when Claire raises her face from her computer, he shrugs. “Morgan’s not exactly an easy person.”  
She doesn’t answer; but thinks about it for a long time.  
The thing is, it _has_ felt easy for now, most of it anyway. Claire knows it can’t last, at some point they’re going to be forced to have a real conversation about it, and then it will probably blow up in both their faces.  
But Claire has been so happy these last few weeks, when she has felt like shit for so long, that she prefers to ignore his warning.

***

In the end, Claire’s the one to break it off.  
One evening, after a long day at the hospital, she arrives at Morgan’s apartment and says, “Andrews knows.”  
“What do you mean?”  
Morgan’s hair is up in a bun, and she’s wearing her pajamas, eating a bowl of cereal at the kitchen counter.  
“Didn’t you notice? Today Melendez had picked us to work with him, but when Andrews saw us together he insisted you join his team. I’m telling you he knows about us!”  
“Maybe he wants me to be his protégée,” Morgan points out, raising an eyebrow.  
Claire rolls her eyes.  
“Please, don’t be so naive.”  
“ _Naive_?”  
“He said, ‘I think it’s best if Dr. Reznick works with me for the time being’ and then he gave me a look.”  
Morgan can only shake her head.  
“I think you’re reading too much into it. Anyway, who cares if he knows?” she says, her mouth full with cereal. However, when she receives no response, she stops chewing and swallows. “I guess you do,” Morgan adds, furrowing her brow.  
Claire has the decency to look embarrassed.  
“I just don’t want to mess it up. I’ve worked so hard for this job and I don’t want to risk it now.”  
Morgan doesn’t answer immediately. She stares at her in silence. For the first time since she arrived, she notices that Claire didn’t even bother to take off her coat when she came in. Her purse is hanging off her shoulder — and she’s now holding on to its strap for dear life.  
“I know what you’re trying to do.” Morgan’s voice is calm, but sharp as a knife. “It won’t work this time. I’m not that dumbass, Kalu.”  
“I know you’re not him,” Claire says, weakly.  
Morgan stands up and walks up to her.  
“So? Say what you’re here to say.”  
Claire feels her eyes burn and has to blink an angry tear away. Her throat feels so tight it almost hurts, but she needs to get these words out. For a moment, she thinks she can hear her mom talking to her: _‘You think you’re so much better than me, acting all high and mighty just because you’re going to college among all these fancy rich folk. But the moment you slip, they’ll see you for what you truly are — and then they’ll throw you back into the gutter with the rest of us.’_  
“I think we should stop, now. Before it gets— more complicated.”  
She had prepared this whole speech, and it had made sense in her head, but now her voice sounds fake and hollow to her own ears.  
“Get the fuck out.”  
“What?”  
“I think you heard me,” Morgan snaps. She doesn’t look shocked, or hurt. Her lips are pressed into a fine line, and she crosses her arms against her chest. “Get the fuck out of my apartment.”  
For a moment, Claire wants to fight back. She needs to explain, needs to make Morgan understand that she’s trying to do the right thing, make her see things her way. But when she opens her mouth and looks up to her, the words die instantly on her tongue.  
She leaves quickly. She wishes to make it as painless as possible.

***

All of her fantasies of a mature break-up come crashing down the next day.  
Morgan won’t even look at her. She’s not ignoring her —she could work with that— instead, she’s taking every possible opportunity to take petty digs at her, making small passive-aggressive remarks that make Alex throw alarmed looks her way. She tries to keep her poker face on, and weather the storm as best as she can.  
She takes it for two days.  
On the third day, she’s done. She’s tired, and angry, and disappointed, because Morgan and her had come such a long way from the day they met, and now it feels like they’re back on square one. Anyway, she’s had it. If they can’t be friends, she damn well expects them to at least be professional.  
She meets her in the locker room, again.  
“Can we talk?” she asks, bracing herself for Morgan to bark something rude back at her. Instead, the other doctor seems focused on putting on her shoes, and doesn’t even give her an answer. “Okay. I understand you’re mad. But I’m actually trying to keep it friendly, and you’re not making things easy.”  
Morgan sits back up and looks at her. Or, more accurately, glares at her.  
“You think I’m mad?” she says and, despite her protest, Claire thinks she sounds pretty angry. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You just dumped me two days ago, and now you’re acting like nothing happened and expect us to be friends? I’m not mad! I’m hurt!” Claire didn’t expect this; Morgan’s eyes are red and shiny, her voice raw. She’s taken aback, not sure how to even respond to it.  
“I-I didn’t—”  
“I told you I’m not Kalu. I’m sorry if it inconveniences you, but I won’t ‘make things easy’ just to give you peace of mind.”  
Claire’s world feels like it has been flipped upside down. She was sure she knew what the issue was, _whose_ fault it was — and now she suddenly feels like an asshole. She takes a moment, then sits down on the bench next to Morgan.  
“I’m sorry,” she says, quietly. “I have this _thing_. I need to keep things clean, and separate, or I’m afraid I— I’ll go out of my mind. And that means I keep hurting people, over and over again. I wasn’t thinking of you, or your feelings. I’m sorry,” she repeats.  
“Well. I’m not exactly known for having those,” Morgan jokes, half-heartedly.  
Claire wants to reach out, hold the other woman’s hand, or just hold _her_. She knows how her body would feel against her, has felt her chin lie on top her shoulder before, has breathed into her long blonde hair. However, before she makes up her mind to move, Morgan stands up.  
“Morgan—”  
“Whatever. I’ll stop being a raging bitch,” she says, before leaving the room.

***

After breaking up with Jared, she felt like shit for a week. She felt guilty, and she missed him, and, most of all, she was relieved. This time, however, she feels an oppressive dread at all times. Like she’s let someone down, and Claire’s not even sure who.  
She comes clean to her therapist. About Morgan, about all of it.  
She listens to her; lets her talk for a long time and, when she runs out of words, asks:  
“Do you regret ending the relationship?”  
Claire breathes in and out.  
“I don’t know,” she confesses.  
At work, she looks at Morgan. Watches her, rather.  
Like someone who keeps poking at a bad tooth, she finds some comfort revisiting the same familiar pain. Morgan has kept her word; she’s still her same old, ridiculous, incredibly rude self, but has kept things impressively professional since her meltdown in the lockers. It almost makes everything worse for Claire, though. There’s a coldness to their interactions that wasn’t there even before they crossed the line, and it makes her desperate for any kind of sign that Morgan’s warming up to her again.  
So. She watches her.

***

It’s five weeks before they get back together.  
Morgan’s the one that kisses her, then sighs and apologizes.  
“No, please,” Claire pleads. “Please. I want this.”  
This time, she needs things to be different.  
They go to HR together. Morgan’s not happy about it, but Claire insists, and she begrudgingly agrees. Morgan puts on an extra fake, extra nice show at the meeting that creeps her out but, once they step out of the office, she drops the smiley façade and bitches to Claire, “If that lady makes me lose my job over this, I swear I’ll sue her ass off.”  
In the end it’s just a formality, and nothing much changes at the hospital after they become public about their relationship. Lim gives them a good talking to, Alex seems to enjoy teasing Morgan about her supposed ‘squishy feelings’, and Shaun is surprisingly indifferent about it all.  
Claire finds the biggest reaction comes from the nurses. Most of them (except for the very few chosen by Morgan that she’s been strategically nice to) hate Morgan’s guts, and since it’s been known they’re an item, Claire discovers their behaviour with her has noticeably cooled off. On the opposite end of the spectrum, those nurses that actually like Claire are now being nicer to Morgan, so she supposes she’s the only real winner in this ordeal.  
It’s not easy, and it’s not simple, but Morgan and Claire are not easy or simple people.

***

On the one year anniversary of her mom’s death, they go back to the aquarium and visit the sea lions. Morgan, who’s a lightweight even if she’ll never admit to it, falls asleep once again against her shoulder on their way back.  
This time, they get off at the same stop.

**Author's Note:**

> Those fuckers got to me. I know it's not going to happen, but I started writing this and then canon got disappointing, so. I just wanted to get this out of my system and move on. Anyway, I suspect this is half incoherent, but I got lazy and even then I'm sure I put more thought into this that those writers put into their own damn show.  
> Also, Morgan Reznick is actually insane and I love her. I hope that shines through this work.  
> Thank you for reading, hope you found something to like!


End file.
